Can we not spare half a minute to drain the old tuna?

A day in the life of Neil Crone

Celia Klemenz / Metroland

PORT PERRY -- A day in the life of Neil Crone, actor, writer and comic. Mr. Crone having brewed up a super-size latte, enjoyed the most important part of his day, time spent meditating and grounding on his back deck, shared with his dog, Owen. August 8, 2013

I saw a billboard the other day heralding either a wonderful benchmark of scientific progress or, perhaps more likely, the first sign of the Apocalypse. There, at the side of the highway, 20 feet high and just as wide, in bold eye-catching colour, was a sign announcing the arrival of ‘No Drain Tuna’.

Wow. Finally. How many of us had simply given up eating the delicious canned fish because of the enormous man hours wasted draining our tuna? How many Facebook petitions needed to circulate before the canned tuna industry heard our cries of ‘Stop the needless draining’? Kudos to all of us who stayed the course. We won.

This, of course, is remarkably silly. Especially when you stop to consider the millions of dollars worth of R and D and advertising that must have gone into creating this ridiculous gimmick. And why? Were they really getting letters from irate consumers complaining that draining their tuna was becoming too much of a chore? I drain my tuna all the time and, as much as I would love to say that ‘draining my tuna’ is some kind of sexual or scatological metaphor, it is not. It’s just something I do. In fact I don’t even really do it, gravity does it. I turn the can over and through the remarkable and mysterious mechanics of physics, it drains. The whole process takes maybe 30 seconds. Have we gotten that lazy, that irritable as a culture, that we feel we cannot spare half a minute to drain the old tuna? Really?

And what have we lost in the process? We may have gained 30 seconds of leisure time but when someone wants our attention we can no longer say fun things like ‘Be with you in a jiff, just draining my tuna.’ Honestly, try and say that out loud without laughing. And what do we say to our cats and dogs who, at the mere sound of the can opener going to work, would happily trot into the kitchen in joyful anticipation of all that lovely tuna juice drained into their dishes? No more, Fido. Sorry Fritz. We’ve gone drainless.

Which brings me to what may be the most important question of all. If all of that juice was in there keeping the tuna moist and yummy, what’s in there now? Isn’t no-drain tuna simply a synonym for desiccated tuna? Tuna powder? Tuna flakes? And if that’s the case why not just put it in a box and make it a breakfast cereal? ‘Tuna Flakes- Now with the glow-in-the-dark goodness of mercury.’

I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. There seems to be no end to human indolence. We are hardwired to look for short cuts and the food industry has always bent over backwards to accommodate us. I’m surprised it took them this long. No-drain tuna should’ve appeared hard on the heels of the individually wrapped cheese slice, pre-mixed peanut butter and jam and Lunchables. Who the hell has time to even eat anymore? Draining our tuna is just the tip of the iceberg. How much time could we save if we didn’t have to do all of that wasteful chewing and swallowing? Mark my words. The next big thing is going to be food you can wear and absorb osmotically.

I can see the billboard already; Who needs to drain the old tuna when you’ve got bacon in your pants?

-- Durham resident Neil Crone, actor, comic, writer, saves some of his best lines for this column.